My Crooked Bride
by Lizzie Pond
Summary: "My bride with her crooked wand and crooked heart" Rodolphus thinks about his life with his wife, Bellatrix. Please read and review.


When I wake up it's still dark, she's beside me sleeping like a child. She looks so innocent when she's asleep; she has a blissful look on her face. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow; some strands fall over her face. She clutches the white sheets with one hand; a deep gash on her shoulder looks black in the dim light. I remember the first night I woke up next to her, I thought she was an angel; she was so young my bride of 18. It's hard to believe that only 4 years have passed since I married her but so many things have changed.

The first morning was bliss; she slept till late morning not stirring. I sat and watched her; I imagined our life that was to come. I could see her coming out of the Dark Lord's service in a year or two to settle down and start a family. I could picture her sitting over a cradle, rocking it and smiling at a little son. Maybe a year or so after a daughter would come, then another. Till we had a family, the family of Lestrange, to fill the empty rooms, the image of boys who liked like me and girls who had Bella's beauty, filling our house full of life. Her sisters would come over with their own children and Death Eater husbands, I would fill my head of the conversations the ladies would have about their sons, daughters and husbands. I had so many dreams for us; I thought she would come to love me in time.

Bella told me she didn't love me, those were her first words on our wedding night. But I put it down to her being young, for being naïve. She had just taken the mark after 2 years of training, I was proud but I imagined she would give it up for a family with me. Everything was coming together; her sisters were going to marry Death Eaters, as they should. The Dark Lord favoured me and Bella, it was all working.

She was only 19 when she miscarried for the first time, I didn't even know she was pregnant. I found on the floor covered in blood, kneeling in a pool of blood. I soon realised that the same blood I had stepped in was the blood that drowned my child. I was sure it was a son, just like I had planned, my perfect boy. Bellatrix claimed she didn't care; her emotionless façade didn't fool me though. I blamed the fact she was still carrying out missions, god knows how many hexes and curses she took from aurors, is it any wonder she lost a child?

The next time she had a miscarriage the cause was clear, her sister had just run off with a mudblood and Bellatrix was distraught and angry. She was around 3 months so this time there was a tiny deformed body, she burnt it. She channelled all her anger at Andromeda, blaming her for the baby's death. I couldn't believe what Andromeda had done, she always seemed such a sweet girl, I used to prefer her to Bella. She was the kinder sister, same beauty but a little different.

I went to the Dark Lord after the second baby, I asked for him to take Bella out of service. I thought then she might have a chance of carrying a baby but the Dark Lord refused. Bellatrix was furious; she shouted and raged, she wasn't going to leave. Any dreams of a family were pushed aside, sadly.

Bellatrix was never particularly loving to me, anything she did offer was out of duty. I must admit I didn't love her as I had loved other girls before, I stated to her often that I hated her. She didn't allow me even to call her Bella that was her name reserved for her sister and the Dark Lord.

She does look so lovely; dawn is dancing in the sky now. A sunbeam is resting of my wife's crooked wand, it matches her crooked heart. My bride with her crooked wand and crooked heart, oh but her beauty! If she wasn't beautiful I would never have married her, this is most definitely a marriage of duty. The golden beam shift onto Bella's pale face, her skin is white as milk, when she blushes it looks like a drop of blood blooming in milk. Her shoulder is cut; she was hit by a curse from an auror. She made sure he died at her hand, no one hurts her.

She's left little charcoal butterflies on the pillow case from her mascara that she didn't remove last night. Her lipstick has all but rubbed off, so now her lips are pale pink. Yesterday's perfume lingers on her skin. Her hair had fallen out of the tight ringlets and now hangs loose.

She looks like a child for a second as the sun lights her face as she lies in her light white night gown. People who have never seen her sleep probably would never believe that she ever looks innocent but she does. She looks like she does in the picture of her that sits downstairs on the mantel, a picture of her sitting on a windowsill looking out through the pane of glass. A rose held carelessly in her hand that dangles down, the other hand placed on the window. I always loved that picture of her, the first I ever received of her. She was 10 and I was 12, I knew I would marry her even then, I was told. There are pictures of her sister sitting in the same place, portraits I think for the family.

Her family know how to show their girls off, Black girls look like delicate flowers. But Bellatrix is more of a thorny rose; Narcissa is a delicate daisy perhaps. Some days I wish I had married Narcissa; to have an uncomplicated bride must be so nice.


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